


back in Pack Street we only had grape

by Otterly



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterly/pseuds/Otterly
Summary: but maybe that was a good thingOzzy is a successful musician now. He's got it pretty good! Travelling the country and singing and all.But what about Pack Street?He's forced to ask himself that question when he finds a corsac fox in his trailer.





	back in Pack Street we only had grape

 

 

  
_Sometimes_

_I’ll sleep_

_Sometimes_

_I’ll close my eyes_

_Sometimes I think about you_

 

  
“Ozzy! You’re on stage in fifteen minutes!” Benny yells, opening my door just a smidge to let his giant voice through. “You need water or anything?”

“Fine, B,” I tell him with a big smile. Showtime. My _favorite_  time of day. “Everyone ready to go? Marissa doesn’t need help with the lights? Band’s fine with all the new junk?”

“We’re A okay, Ozzy. Break a leg, you hear me? Have fun out there, most of all. That’s all any of us want.”

“Always, B,” I roll my shoulders and walk up to the vanity so I can look at myself in the mirror. We’re good. I’m feeling good. Now to bring that good feeling and spread it through the audience like it’s a really fancy brand of jam. “Nothing else? You’re sure? I’m going a little stir crazy, man.”

His laugh syncs up with mine, and then someone hollers his name across the hall. “We’re sure, baby. Focus on being the best You you can be, alright?”

“Two steps ahead of you.”

The door clicks shut, and I get closer to the mirror. My breath fogs the glass, creeping outwards into a circle shaped more like a cloud.

“You’re doing good,” I tell myself, looking for honesty in my eyes.

In the mirror I see a hyena. He’s got stripes and a sad look in his eye that disappears when you try to look for it. He’s a performer — something that makes him happier than he thought he could be. He’s richer than he’d ever dreamed.

If you look closely you can see that he’s a long way from home. But that’s okay. He’s making the most of it. He’s got a job to do and god forbid he doesn’t get it done.

 

A moment rolls by as I savor the calm before the storm, and then I step back, fix my cheek fur, and walk out of the room.

The sound of all the footsteps tended to confuse me for the first month or so, until a really smart roadie (he’s assistant to my manager now) pointed it out: they’re like drums. I hear drums all around me when I step into the pre show chaos. The footsteps make a beat, and layered into it are a bunch of questions and answers yelled across halls and into walkie-talkies. I dodge and stumble towards the general direction of the stage entrance, and anyone who’s not too busy to notice me gives a cheerful nod. A few even stop and talk to me.

Sam, a buffalo, stands at like twenty feet tall and he ushers me into a gap in the wall before he says anything.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. Huge mammals tend to be really sweet and nice. Sam’s no exception. “Don’t wanna get in anyone’s way, you feel?”

“I feel,” I agree, nodding at a few more crew members passing through before I turn back to Sam. “What’s happening, Sam?”

“Not much. You know we got those new amps right?”

“Yeah. Benny made sure I knew about those yesterday.”

He smiles. “Good! I was just on my way to triple check everything. Can never be too sure.”

I hum, thinking. “Don’t know about that. Sometimes you just gotta let things go — let them do their thing, you feel?”

“Kinda, yeah,” he mumbles. His eyes glaze over for a bit before he perks up, snapping back to the present. “But not with show business. Everything’s gotta be completely _perfect_. Perfect gets us paid and makes sure we do good by you. You’re the star after all.”

“Oh,” I start. “I’m not—“

“You are,” Sam cuts me off while looking at his phone. “Shit. Alright. Gotta go now, Oz. Break a leg!”

The buffalo skirts around me and starts to walk to wherever we was headed earlier, but before he can get out of my sight I thrust my hand towards him and call out “ Is it anything I can help with?”

“Nope!” he calls back, over his shoulder. “See you later!”

“Alright,” I say, but he’s already gone. “Alright.”

Man, if I were any of them, I wouldn’t want some raggedy hyena freeloader budging in on their work either, but I gotta prove my worth somehow. They always tell me to just put on a good show, but the real hard truth of the thing is that I do the least amount of work here. All I do is spread some love and sing. Everyone else puts so much into the whole performance…I just wanna do good by them like they’re focused on doing for me.

Work would make some use outta me. And keep me busy.

Busy is good.

I lower my arm after noticing that I’ve had it out for longer that was ever necessary and then join the crowd again. Someone out here probably needs help, right?

  
“No, sorry.”

“Can’t talk have a good show!”

“What? What? I can’t hear you. You’re gonna have to speak up. Wait, what?”

“Hi Ozzy! No.”

  
After being rejected by basically everyone I come across, I find myself at the stage, sitting on a chair and watching the last of my pre-show finish up. I’m not too surprised.

Like I said: wouldn’t trust me either.

“Why the long face?” someone asks from behind me. When I turn, I see a black bunny standing with her hands on her hips, smiling brighter than the sun in May. “You’re going on soon!”

“Heh, yeah,” I laugh awkwardly. I’ve only met this girl once before. Carmen, I think. She does publicity or something? Anyway, she’s another hard worker I live off. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I just wish I coulda helped more or something. Everyone seemed a hell of a lot busier than I’ve been.”

She tilts her head.

“Well,” she starts, winding up for some kind of motivational speech. “You’re the star here, Ozzy. Can I call you Oz? You’re the star, Oz. And that’s not really above any of us. We’re all working for the same thing here: A great show. If we all do our jobs then we’re sure to do that.”

“But—“

Her finger shushes me. “Nope! No complaints. Don’t act like any of us haven’t seen you rehearsing for hours and hours up until today. You’re the golden boy, right now. The Hyena That Made It Out. That’s what that Time article said, right? You’re a whole new mammal and you’re due for success. Helluva lot more than anyone else I’ve heard of that had to live off _Bug_ _Burga_  and microwaved food for a year cause of low funds.”

I can see that she’s not gonna take no for an answer, so I give her the opposite. “Okay.”

She squints, looking to see if I’m lying, trapping me in her scary stare for so long I think I might start sweating. But that could also be because of the body heat of the hundreds of people outside. After way too long, she steps back and nods happily. “Alright. Do you love this, Ozzy?”

“I do,” I respond without thinking.

“Then that’s all you have to do! Love it and work hard. You wouldn’t trade this for anything else, would you?”

A shaky smile’s all I can give her in return. “What’s your name, again?”

“Oh, so you can fire me?” the rabbit winks. “I don’t think so.”

“No! I just wanna make sure—“ Someone calls my name, and I glance back. An otter makes a bunch of signals I don’t understand. I guess that means I’m supposed to go on soon. I turn again. “I wanna see if I can do anything to help—“

She’s gone. Aw, man. Her speech really did make me feel better.

“Ozzy! You’re on in one minute!”

“Coming,” I announce as I stand up.

Before I walk on, I give my crew a last look and a smile, and step forward into the light.

The screams deafen me.. I feel their energy in an instant. Their excitement adds to my own.

Carmen was right. I’m a whole new mammal. I wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

 

* * *

 

Before I realize I’m finished I’m covered in a thick layer of sweat and adrenaline, and then I decide on an encore or three.

When I really am finally done, I find myself lying on the floor behind the curtains. Every few seconds I’ll giggle to myself, letting the adrenaline make me crazy.

“Ozzy!” someone yells. I think it’s Benny. “Wanna go out, get some bevs or something?”

Hell yeah I do.

We give each other a few minutes to clean up, but it’s only a moment before I’m at the bar with a mongoose by my side.

“Been a while since we’ve had a chance to talk a little bit. You’re always so tired,” he jabs teasingly. “I’ve had to have the workaholic talk with a few of my previous guys, but watching you up there? I think maybe you’re just having so much fun the energy you’re expending doesn’t even register until afterwards.”

“Heh, probably,” I chortle. “Can you believe that it’s already been a year?”

“I can! But I’m gonna guess that you can’t.”

“No sir. Got too much on the mind to think about time,” I say with a wink.

“Yep,” he snickers. “Hosting all those parties last month sure kept you busy.”

“Damn right,” I raise my glass. The mongoose raises his as well, and we both take a long gulp of some cheap concert booze. Not the best stuff but I’ve definitely had worse.

“You know what I can’t believe?” Benny asks me.

“What?”

“That you’re the same guy I found singing by a curb a year ago.”

I smile for him. “Thank you.”

We continue talking until an hour later, at which point the bartender asks us to leave so he can leave. He reminds me about my show tomorrow and something else that I can’t quite hear. Didn’t drink too much, but I’m definitely a little staggery. Is that a word?

The halls backstage are all twisty and turny. It’s a bit of a journey but eventually, with some luck, I end up at my trailer.

My mobile room for the road. Home.

On the door sits a cheesy golden star with my name on it. I didn’t want it — asked Benny to take it off or if he couldn’t then I could but he insisted anyway. Tradition or something. Knob’s cold when I turn it and enter. My trailer’s too fancy for a trailer’s own good. Queen bed in the back, a kitchen with those expresso makers I dunno how to use, a walk in shower with a waterproof TV inside, and a living area that’s half the size of my old room.

There’s a pack of gummies I’ve been saving on the table for after the concert, but when I walk in I see that they’re gone.

Something rustles behind me.

I turn around and lay eyes on a fox I don't remember inviting over. Scruffy fur, almost ‘oily’ but well kept enough so it can be excused.

She’s smiling, which is nice, but this is a huge grin we’re talking about and that’s why it takes my post concert brain to recognize Charlie.

Charlie? Charlie.

Charlie.

Wait, it’s Charlie!

“Charlie!” I bark happily, sprinting forward so I can scoop my arm under her tiny legs and hold her nice and close to my chest. Under all my overjoyed laughing, I can feel her as well, purring like a motor engine. She tries her best to wrap her arms around my torso but that’s okay! Nothing she could do right now couldn’t _not_  be okay. I end up stumbling and fall a little bit against the wall, squeezing her for all she’s worth, which is a lot.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen hugged her, seen her face…

A few second later she taps me on the chest a whole bunch. Oops.

I drop her and she lands unceremoniously on her feet. She takes a couple of breaths of air before attaching herself to my legs again, smiling up at me as she does. Looking down on her, I can see that she’s changed. All in good ways. Turtleneck sweater’s a bit different — the neck part’s a bit shorter. More of a…tiny neck sweater, now. Some of her fluff pops out from inside. She’s healthier too, if that makes sense. Charlie, exercising? Girl’s got more structural integrity than before, that’s for sure.

Though thinking about it more, she looks exactly like the same fox I said goodbye to at the train station a year ago. Just a little different, maybe.

“Hello, Ozzy,” Charlie purrs. I’m glad to hear that she’s as ecstatic as I am right now.

“Hey Charlie,” I say. I’m trying not to cry. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Better, with you back in town.”

Right. Zootopia’s a few hours away. Grinning, I motion for us to take a seat at the table. “Uh—what’s new with you? And by you I mean everyone. You guys have much fun without me?”

“We’re good,” she chirps, hopping into the chair across from me. “Everyone’s good. We’re enjoying the gifts you’ve given: the elevator, the floor refurbishing. Pandora’s chain of stores have done well. Al and Velvet have had successful discussions about adoption — don’t tell them I told you. The rest of us are relatively the same, though the twins are further along in school since you’ve last seen them and the last time I’ve used unconventional tactics to gain money was more than four months ago.”

All the info almost overloads me. I laugh a little, leaning on the edge of the table. “Wow. Wow! That—that’s great!”

She nods.

“So everything’s good?” I wonder, and immediately regret it. Of course they’re good. It’s been a year and Charlie’s already changed so much. “You guys still up to the same stuff? Woolly still a bully? Movie night every month? Random acts of Bug Burga feeding everyone when they least expect it?”

She nods again, this time more chipper. “Are you doing fine?”

“I’m touring the country. Honestly, if I never get more than this, if my career goes into shambles right this second for some reason, I’d still be smiling.”

Something overcomes her, and she dashes off her chair, knocking it down. I feel her arms around my neck, and her chin resting on my shoulder. She holds me like she could break me if she doesn’t hold me tight enough, whispering “Sorry I couldn’t bring everyone else. I’m the only one who has next two days off. But I’ll see you then.”

“You’re going already?” I balk. “But we have so much to do!”

“It’s nearly time for bed, Ozzy,” the fox informs me. “I have to leave so you can put on an amazing show tomorrow. Nice work on the pyrotechnics, by the way.”

I wrinkle my eyebrows and hold her away so I can look at her triangle face and her squinty eyes. “What? No! You can stay in my trailer. I’ll fix up a bed and we can—“

“Thank you, Ozzy, but I already have housing arrangements for tonight. Paid ones.”

A frown claws its way out of me. “Alright.”

I hug her one more time, we say goodbye, and I’m alone again. Strange, since I didn’t feel alone before. I watch her leave through my window like a cheesy music video.

I’m always hungry after a show, but right this moment the crew could roll in an entire buffet and…I don’t think I’d touch a thing.

I got no songs to write, no calls to make or anything, so I figure that my bed looks nice enough. The mattress springs whine a bit when I climb in and lie on my back. Everything is comfy and warm, and if all goes well I’ll be asleep before I can hum the full length of Rich Girl by Horse and Oats.

Nice to hear that everyone’s been doing great. They’ve been doing amazing, actually. A little past that, even.

Everything sounds so nice. I remember when I used to sit on the steps and play. Not everyone loved it — I didn’t expect them to — but I sure did. Jamming in the sun with my pals.

Don’t I miss it.

I’m reminded of something unpleasant, and then I blank out but I don’t sleep. I go and prove myself wrong.

Like my ignition’s finally lighted or something, I sit at the table and write.

I’ve been lazy, haven’t I?

Slacking. I’ve been slacking and lazy and I’m not freeloading but I’m definitely being a leech, that’s for sure. I need to reverse that.

I’m in the middle of a verse, and towards the end of some fine tuning on one of my other songs, and thinking a little about how I can use other instruments better, when I start napping every time I close my eyes. Guess it’s time to call it a day. Night. Whatever.

Probably time to rest anyway. Gotta wake up in a few hours. Got a big day tomorrow. Gotta be busy. Gonna be busy.

Gonna do a lot with what I have.

 

* * *

 

 

Wake up. The sun’s nice and it’s being extra hot today. Maybe I can find a pool later, relax and swim around. Maybe I can find Charlie and bring her with me.

Breakfast. A runner shows up at my door. I ask for the best breakfast burrito that this town can offer and a smoothie with fruits and all that good stuff.

Before he leaves he gives me a little salute. I salute back. For the the first month or two I’d go for my wallet but they always act like it’s against the law to let me pay for my own food. Nowadays I just settle for a “thank you.” Not gonna lie, being pampered is nice, but being able to buy things I want by myself had more freedom to it. Though I guess I haven’t had too much money before this whole thing happened. This gig really isn’t too bad, actually.

Mostly, I’m worried about handouts. I don’t need pity or nothing. But who would pity me, anyway? I’m the luckiest sunuvabitch in the world.

The runner comes by with the burrito in a jiffy. I take a bite and thank him before wrapping it up and putting it in the fridge. Not feeling breakfast. Drinks are a different story though. I chug the smoothie and look at my phone.

According to the time I have ten minutes to do whatever I want. Problem is, I want to work so really I have ten minutes to do whatever I don’t want to do. I try calling Charlie, but she doesn’t answer. Instead I get a text saying that she’s picking up some furniture and she’s gonna see me later.

After pacing a bit I decide to walk out into the lot and enjoy the morning sun, which is shining plenty today. I see Carmen leaned against the entrance to the venue, smoking a cigarette, and go out to join her.

“Morning,” she greets as I start loitering with her. “Have a good sleep?”

“It was alright,” I inform her, laughing a bit as I do. “What about you?”

“Yeah, about the same,” she says. “You smoke?”

“Oh, nah,” I wave off the dart she offers me. “Nothing against it. Just, you know, “that stuff kills” and all. I got people who’d destroy me if I ever got into it.”

“Fair enough,” the rabbit nods, taking an extra long drag. “You’re Zootopian, right?”

“Born ’n raised.”

“You miss it?”

The question makes me think for a second. “Sure I do.”

“Mmm,” she hums thoughtfully before taking another drag. When she breathes out, the smoke drifts up and is carried off by the wind faster than I can blink. “Hey, you want a soda or something? You look a little tired if you don’t mind me pointing out.”

“Uh, I guess,” I cough.

Carmen walks over to a water cooler beside one of the parked cars. “Which kind?”

“Any is fine.”

Before I’m given any warning something purple sails towards my face. I catch it without thinking.

Grape soda. That makes me laugh, which makes Carmen tilt her head. As she comes back I explain. “Back home — back in Pack Street we only had grape. I’d say that we had it every time we needed something to drink but that’d be a lie. But mostly we’d only drink grape soda when we were too hot.”

“Gross,” she takes another drag of her cig before switching our drinks, handing me an ice cold cola in exchange for the grape. “You probably got sick of it.”

“I liked it, actually,” I giggle. We crack our cans open in unison. “But a little variety never hurt no one, right?”

The rabbit raises her can and winks. “Spice of life, Oz. Can’t be drinking grape soda forever, no matter how much you think you love it.”

Both our phones vibrate in unison.

“Time for work,” says Carmen. “I’ll see you some other time.”

“Yeah,” I agree, taking a moment to ruminate a little on just how nice this cola is before following her in.

Time for rehearsal.

 

* * *

 

 

“The heck you mean, ‘take fifteen’?”

“We’ve been rehearsing for, like, three thousand years. And by that I mean eight hours,” Andy, my kangaroo drummer, leader of my band (and basically my entire social life for the last year) puts a hand on his hip and tosses me a confused look. In the back, everyone crowds around the exit to the stage, hungry or looking for some fresh air. “Some people have to like, eat. You know?”

The word reminds my stomach that it’s empty, and it takes the opportunity to growl audibly and notify Andy about how annoying it’s being.

“Sounds like you need a meal too,” he observes.

I shake my head, taking a seat on one of the larger amps so I can perform some pointless tuning on one of the basses. “Most days I’d be down, man, but I think I’m fine for now.”

“Really? Cause if memory serves, most days I think you tell me the same thing in favor of working on something that you don’t have to be doing.”

My tuning stops for a moment. Because my fingers are tired. I get back at it before anyone can notice anything. “Pick me up a twinkie or something if you want. I got some stuff to do.”

“Fine, fine.”

He struts away, leaving me alone on stage. Just me, my music and my thoughts.

I _do_  have work to do, ignoring everyone who’s telling me that I don’t. Someone’s guitar or something was out of tune the whole time. I dunno whose, but if I double check every single guitar, bass and banjo in this entire building I’m sure to find it. Then we’ll be perfect.

Perfectly sounding, at least on the instrument part. My voice is raspy — not in the good way. Gotta find a way around that. I need to drink more water. Good thing for me there’s a mini fridge stocked with it in the corner, past the curtains. I take a bottle out and drink thirstily, feeling the cold liquid travel down into my chest and pool up in my belly. Helps with the starvation.

That’s alright. I’ll just eat a big dinner. When all the work is done. I’ll take Charlie somewhere nice tonight, maybe. We can get takeout and sit on the curb somewhere. Yeah. Feel the nice, warm sun on our fur right before it sets. Maybe I can busk. Play some music and talk about everything and nothing. Like we used to do.

Man, I sorta miss that.

“Ozzy,” Andy says from right beside me.

I let out a startled yelp, stepping back a few steps and nearly falling off the stage.

“Whoah!” the kangaroo raises his hands. “Hey. How long have you been standing there like that? Scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh, was I?” I look around, panting breathily. “Uh, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Here,” he looks like he’s about to hand me something, but there’s nothing there. “Oh, shit, fuck! God damn it. I forgot the twinkie.”

“Eh, it’s no problem.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Like,” I think about it. “I dunno. Breakfast was at ten.”

“It’s seven!”

I shrug. “Chill. We got a lotta work to do.”

Something flashes in Andy’s eyes. “You alright?”

“Never better, hopper. Now, come on. It’s time we get back to work.”

“Hey,” he barks, clapping my shoulder. “You sure?”

“Dude, yes,” I groan. “Come on, now.”

Andy leaves me alone about it, thankfully.

We work until it’s time for the show, before which I wolf down a pack of pretzels.

 

* * *

 

 

  
The cheering picks up as I walk up to the mic. I’m supposed to start right away but I give the band a signal. When I’m finally in position, I lean forward and start yelling. “You know something, Deerbrook County?” I scream above the hollering. “I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here!”

At the first note, my mind blanks, going straight and focusing on the mammals in front of me. The fans, the critics, the people who were dragged here. They came for music, and that’s what I’m here to share.

I stay with them until every song is done.

 

* * *

 

My trailer’s easy to find now — bless that little black bunny — so it’s less than a few minutes before I journey on over there and flop onto my bed.

Wasn’t—

“Tired?” Charlie asks, coming out of the bathroom.

“A little, but that’s good. We did a lot with today and that matters a lot,” I groan as I turn onto my side to get a better look at her. “What’s my favorite vixen in the world been up to?”

“There’s precious little to do in my hotel room. I found a TV set I will be taking back to the apartment lobby and then waited for your arrival for about an hour or so inside of your trailer.”

“Aw, you didn’t catch the show?” I whine, half playful and half kind of genuine.

Her mouth curves up into a smile.”My ears are still sensitive from yesterday’s performance, but I’m sure you’ve done just as good a job today.”

That makes me feel a whole lot better. I wave my hands vaguely at the nearby fridge. Charlie fetches the two of us some grape soda that’s been sitting in there for the last month, and some minutes go by while we take sips between the waves of comfy silence between us.

Eventually, the vixen perks up and sets her can down, which I do too out of anticipation. She seems excited. “Oh, I forgot to bring these yesterday, but I have them now.”

Charlie scampers over me and reaches down the other side of the bed, dragging out a beat up old backpack from where I can’t see. After a moment spent digging through the thing, she pulls out a photo album. New looking, glossy material covers its entire surface. I feel her warmth spill onto me when she slides into the bed and nestles up against my side.

“They’re not much,” she explains, putting the album between us. “But I believe that both individually and together they portray an accurate snapshot of our current lives.”

I open the album to two pages with two polaroids on each. The first one is of the whole pack, standing lined up in what looks like the lobby — it is! I can see the TV in the back. Point of view’s a little crooked, but I can still see everyone clearly. The twins, Charlie and Marty in the middle are backed by Al and Avo, who’s holding a struggling ram in her arms. He’s not at his best angle. Probably telling Avo to let him stand on his own.

They’re all happy. Even Cormo’s still got a bit of a grin on his face despite being mid speech.

I’m glad that they’re smiling again.

The next three photos are all of things I miss. Charlie knows me too well. There’s the couch in the lobby. The stairs. That old court covered in tags and litter.

If only she’d found a way to capture the smell of the place. Or recorded all the mammals walking by the street.

“Wh—What else’ve we got here?” I choke, not realizing the lump in my throat before I speak.

Next page. Avo singing to a disturbed Wolter. Marty cooking something in a pot that’s way too big for him to be messing around with. Annie looking excited while Miss Velvet tells her something. And the last photo is of a party. Taken high up.

A big, beautiful crowd shot.

It seems like the whole block is there! The next two pages tell me more. I see burgers being grilled by Al, and everyone dancing and having a good time. Charlie notices me staring extra long at a photo of Marty changing songs on someone’s phone, connected to a huge set of speakers that have gotta stand at like ten feet tall, at least.

“Your music is better. Your live music, I mean. Half of your album is on the party playlist.”

“And the other half?” She must be talking about all the chiller, sadder stuff I have.

“Makes Avo want to cry out of pining. A good bit of the rest of us, too,” Charlie confesses, hushing her voice into a naked whisper.

She picks her paw up. Mine twitches — at first I think she’s gonna hold mine, but she just turns to the next page.

More pictures, of course. Must have been a hell of a shindig. Probably kept the whole block up for hours and hours. I can see the sky shifting as we go through the photos.

“When was this?” I ask, a kind of monotone in my voice. “Someone’s birthday or something?”

“New Years.”

“What?”

“January 1st.”

I blink. “I missed New Years.”

Her head tilts. “It was only—“

“I told myself I’d visit or _something_. I—“

Numbness sets into my legs. I get out of bed anyway, starting to walk around. My chest feels kinda weird. Like someone’s pressing on it. Like how they describe on ghost hunting shows when they walk somewhere haunted.

“Ozzy,” Charlie appears in front of me, pressing her tiny paws against my chest. “Calm yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just,” I’m out of breath, so when I giggle it sounds more like pained wheezing. “It’s funny how so much can happen in so little time. Just gotta remember to make the most of each day, right?”

“What are you—“

I cough. Turn away. Towards the door. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“Ozzy—“

“I’m actually really hungry actually let’s go get some grub.” My leg’s shaking. It wants to pace some more or maybe it’ll calm down if I practice a little, which I’ll do when she’s gone but not right now. That’d be rude. I look at her, catching a peek at her pretty blues. “What do you say?”

“O-Of course,” Charlie nods. “Where—“

The wall nearly takes my head off when I fall into it and it almost rips off some of my fur — actually there’s a tingling on my neck and I think that might be because some of it was ripped off

— when I slide down

 

 

                                                                     —I blink, feeling heavy —

 

 

                             —and When I gather myself enough to know where I am——

 

There’s a fox crouched in front of me.

 

She's very pretty.

 

The walls are cold.

 

“When was the last time you ate something?” Charlie inquires. She sounds worried. No, no. Scared.

I look at her, catching a peek at her pretty blues. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Okay.”

Her arms close in around me. Or, mostly around me. If mostly meant halfway. Vibrations buzz their way into my shirt and chest.

“What?”

She removes her face from me. “I said that I’ll drive.”

 

* * *

 

 

Charlie (who’s gotten her van privileges back from Al apparently), after I search the internet (I get free data. Can you believe that? All for one commercial), decides to stop by this nice hyena place that sells cricket wraps and roach skewers with PB sauce. I pay, of course, but only after Charlie convinces me to let her pay for a six pack.

Deerbrook, Deerbrook County is a relatively small town off the borders of Zootopia. Like two hundred years ago a bunch of rich guys settled down here and planted some farms, and now the place is crawling with an equal mix of struggling farmer kids and corporate babies with gold mines in their pockets. After some driving, we come across a suburby kind of place and decide to park there. It’s late enough that no one’ll bat an eye, and we’re just here to eat anyway.

We settle in on a stone curb leading up to a cul de sac, facing the sunset.

Perfect. This is..perfect.

I feel something warm and tender press against my lips. A skewer.

“Eat,” commands Charlie.

My mouth opens, and she gently holds the skewer still for me to take a bite of the grilled roach. Immediately my stomach growls in approval.

“Hold it and consume the rest while I tend to one of the wraps,” she says again.

I won’t argue with her. I grab hold of the stick and dress it down until it’s completely bare of roaches. And then I grab another, do the same, and then do the same thing to two more.

“How’re the wraps?” I ask after there are no more roaches — only sticks.

Charlie makes a positive noise as she polishes off the first one.

“Ish gud,” she chirps between bites. After swallowing the last, she takes a deep breath and turns to me. “Want to split the last one?”

“Oh, I couldn’t—“

“Eat. Please.”

“Fine,” I grumble, carefully taking a wrap out of the box and sawing it in half with one of my claws. I hand one of the pieces to Charlie and take a bite of my own. Shit, she wasn’t lying. The textures between the tortilla, the rice and the crickets make for a really good combination. Everything’s nicely spiced and weirdly enough I don’t feel greasy or nothing while I’m eating it. Zoogle did us well on this.

It’s not long before we’re out of food and down to four beers left. I pick up another bottle, taking a long, quiet drink while Charlie does the same. Silence falls after our initial “ah”s of relief when we put them down.

“I’m the new beta,” Charlie says. It takes a while for that to sink in, but when it does, my ears perk and my fur fluffs up. She notices my reaction and smiles. “I am.”

“Wow,” I remark. “That’s…I’m proud of you. That’s for sure.”

“The needs of the pack are many, and it’s quite stressful at times,” she admits, taking another pull at her brew.

I laugh. Hard. “Well, at least you get second choice at meals and couch seating!”

“When did you last eat?”

“Uh,” I’m unable to stop chuckling. “I dunno — heh — I ate in the morning I think.”

“You think?” Charlie presses. “Are you stressed? You seemed healthy yesterday.”

That takes me a while to answer. I end up staring at the tires of the van. All the etches and the dirt caught in them. “Honestly, Charlie, I feel great. No worries.”

“How’s work?”

“You’re starting to sound like Velvet,” I inform her. “I’m alright. Promise! You sound like you already have a bunch on your plate, miss New Beta. Stick to worrying about the Pack.”

Then she looks at me like I’ve snapped at her. “You _are_  Pack.”

“Am I?” I wonder aloud before covering my mouth. Oh, shit. That didn’t sound how I wanted it to. I didn’t want it to sound in the first place actually, I was just thinking about it. Charlie’s completely forgotten about her beer now — maybe she’s finished it. Instead she’s taken to staring at me like I’m different. She’s looking at me like she’d look at a ghost. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I scoot back reflexively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Right,” she says, hoverhanding her beer before choosing to leave it alone. “Well, now I want to know what you meant.”

“Just, uh, like, god — Charlie, come on,” I beg, trying to paint a picture of my mind with my hands. It’s really not working at all. “I don’t know, okay? We’re living miles and miles apart and sometimes the only thing I remember about home is the smell of the lobby. You can tell me like two millions things about Pack Street that I don’t know now. Things I’d need to be there for in order to understand. And…I don’t know. I’m not _me_. I shouldn’t be, either! I don’t know. If things with me were still the same then — then I’d be in the same place I was before and I _can’t_  let that happen Charlie. Come on. Am I making sense?”

My shoulders shake with my shuddering. “I’m not the same as I was.”

“But you are,” Charlie starts. “You—“

“Don’t say that!” Back away. Stand up. Keep eyes on her. Nice, calming blue eyes. She doesn’t look at me like she looks at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Just…we’re three hours away from home and we haven’t talked about going back once. Don’t we both know why?”

“No,” she argues.

Her paw twitches again. I take a step back. “I’m sorry. I — I’m gonna go.”

Halfway down the street is as far as I make it before I turn back — Charlie’s still sitting there. Her arm’s out like she’s asking me to come back, but I can’t look for long. Another second of seeing her and I just might do what she wants. I can’t. Three streets away I find some stores that are closing for the day, and dial Andy to come and pick me up.

I need to be around friends right now.

 

* * *

 

The tires on the street growl monotonously as I stare out the window of the car. Andy came quick (“Probably wouldn’t be the first time,” I told him. He didn’t laugh.) and he hasn’t said a word since I gave a really weird explanation about how I got lost trying to find the local Woolgreens. As usual, everyone around me can tell when I’m lying. Not as usual, Andy hasn’t called me out on it yet.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Until now. I shrug. “Not really.”

“Girl troubles?”

“There’s a girl, but—“

“Woo! I actually thought I was completely wrong! Wow. Ozzy and a girl. What’s her name?”

“Why’s her name important?” I inquire.

“Hmm…Ozzy and a guy, then? You don’t need to hide who you are with me, dude. Outback Island has a bunch of gay people and most of them can hold their drink well so — actually, even if they couldn’t I’d still be totally alright with them.”

“Charlie.”

“Cripes! I was right?”

“No, her name is Charlie,” I answer tiredly. The scenery is all boring and the sun’s already down. I’m not sure why I’m still looking out of the window. “She’s…we were friends before I got signed and all.”

Seconds pass as Andy goes silent before perking back up with an “Aaaaand?”

“I don’t know. She’s completely the same at first glance but—”

”Oh! It’s like _that_. I thought you knocked her up or something.”

He’s smiling, I can hear it in his voice and that teases a little chuckle out of me — the good kind. “No, of course I did. That’s what I do. Ozzy the rockstar going around and getting everyone preggers because I can’t keep it in my pants, the total _fox_  that I am.”

Immediately he looks at me, horrified. I toss a grin his way. “Pred status: I’m allowed. Plus, Charlie’s a fox herself.”

“You never did talk about where you came from. Much,” Andy notes, smiling calmly. “That Time article—“

“Why do people keep talking about the Time article?”

“ _The Time article_  — thank you for not interrupting — said you weren’t doing so hot before everything got hot really fuckin’ quick, yeah?” he continues. “Pack Street, huh? I was never acquainted. Most of us don’t get off the Island too much. Tell me about it.”

“Well it was dirty. But like, in the normal way. The city way, I mean. The kind of dirty you get used to. Not like, _dirty_  dirty but…you know what I mean,” I babble awkwardly. Dirty? For real? I can think of plenty of other things. “There wasn’t a moment of privacy. Mammals at every corner. Wanting something or shaking you down or just giving you a hard time. But like, good.”

I can _feel_  his eyebrows raise. Don’t know when I took to ripping loose threads from my jeans but I’m doing it actively now. “A sheep moved in once. He was a real dick about it.”

“How sweet,” replies Andy. “Tell me more about your darling neighbourhood.”

“Wasn’t like that! He turned out okay in the end. Still lives there. Had amazing music taste.”

“Think he replaced you?”

I laugh. “Of course not.”

“Hmm,” the kangaroo reaches for the melted slushie in the drink holder. I help it into his hand.

“Hey,” I breathe, turning back towards the window. We’re nearly back at the venue now. “You ever look around somewhere, and think you know it back to front, and then in a few minutes it get turned into this place that’s just completely different? Stairs that you used to chill on suddenly make you cry. A spot on the couch becomes untouchable. The smell of smoke makes you feel dead inside. And then it’s like pictures are the only thing that can bring you back to how it was.”

“That smoke one happens to me regardless,” Andy jokes joylessly. He pulls into the driveway and touches my shoulder tentatively. “Look, I don’t know much about conflict and stuff. I play instruments for a living. I just hope you know that I’m here for you.”

“Sure thing,” I say, as optimistically as I can. “Thanks.”

He drives off and leaves me alone to wander the halls, turning and sneaking in through different crevices and shortcuts before I arrive at my trailer at last.

Home sweet home. 

* * *

 

  
Hoofhaven Mall at 1pm  
I’m sorry. Please come.

 

The text burns into my eyes I’ve read it so much. Woke up and it was there. I wasn’t gonna go at first but…I owe it to her, don’t I?

It’s not like her to just ask me to meet her somewhere. Normally she’d just show up, right? Maybe she’s sparing my feelings. Maybe she thinks the problems are to do with her and not exclusively me. Maybe I don’t know her anymore and this is how she does things now.

I look around, ignoring the staring from about a third of the people here. The fountain rushes with water behind me. It’s a fancy looking marble statue of a wounded deer, hunched over as blood (water) leaks out of his mouth and his side. Kinda disturbing when you look at it too much, so I don’t.

Where is she?

“H—Hi.”

There’s a deer twiddling his hooves when I turn around, looking both nervous and excited. I give him a reassuring grin. “Hey there! What can I do for you?”

He simply reaches behind him and pulls out a glossy picture of my album. “Uh, don’t wanna bother you but—“

“Of course not,” I reassure him, taking the pen he offers me and signing it before we take a customary selfie. “Gonna take a wild guess and say that you’re local.”

The deer nods vigorously. “Saw your show last night and — oh my, I forgot what I was gonna say! Heh. I just. Your music makes me happy. I think it’s amazing.”

“Well, thank you kindly. Your town’s really comfy, you know that? If I ever had to settle down…”

“Really?” he asks. “I always thought it was a bit…plain?”

“That’s why it’s nice! Nice and peaceful. You’re lucky this is your home, antlers.”

His eyes light up, followed by the rest of his face as he beams at me. We wave goodbye before I realize that Charlie still hasn’t shown up.

Hoofhaven at 1, right?

I pull out my phone and despair. It’s 12:30.

 

* * *

 

 

I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, oh my god. The familiar walls of the concert venue greet my eyes as I trudge through the empty halls. Why didn’t I stay? That’s the million dollar question here. I should have stayed. Why didn’t I stay? 

It's too late now. 1:50. I wonder where Charlie is.

I’m scared, is why. I’m a coward.

 

 

I reach my trailer and find a corsac fox sitting at one of the tables in front of it, starting at a photo album opened halfway.

Shit.

As soon as the door closes itself shut she turns and looks at me. Buzzing arises in my pocket. A text from Benny: ‘Are you alright? I forgot to tell you we have the next three days off today’ and If I had to text back it’d probably be something like yep, yep you really should have what am I supposed to do now?

“Ozzy.”

Her voice brings me forward. I don’t know if I’m going to my trailer or towards her. They’re both in the same direction. I guess I just need to choose.

“C—Can’t right now,” I stutter. “I have tomorrow off let’s talk then.”

“Ozzy.”

“I’ll call security.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I’ll call security,” I say again, a little louder this time. Charlie don’t do this to me can’t I just get some sleep? “Please just let me through.”

“I won’t,” Charlie asserts. She begins to stand up, fingers trailing the edge of the photo album’s plastic pages. Her face is unplaceable. I have no idea what she’s thinking. What she’s gonna do. I’m starting to question if I ever did. Always off and coming back like she was some sort of fairy that stole things from other mammals and gave them to you as gifts. Like a kid’s movie. These memories aren’t gifts, though.

Just a few more seconds before I’m about to reach the front door and she dashes in front of me, arms wide open.

She’s cheating. She knows I wouldn’t push her aside.

I face her, staring past her shoulders at the bottom of my trailer door, wishing I had words or even a little bit of courage so I could at least look her in the eye.

“Charlie…” I rasp.

“We need to talk,” she informs me clinically.

I shake my head, moving to grab the door handle.

“Please!” she yells. “Please.”

The fox nods cautiously when I halt, slowly leading me back to where the table is like I’m dangerous somehow. The air feels dryer all of a sudden. Dry and hot. I start sweating, stumbling towards her as I beg for words to come to me. “Look…”

Her ears twitch, waiting for further words, but as expected none come out. We take seats across from each other and stare.

A laugh breaks through my lips as I scratch the back of my head. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“Great!” I grin, standing up. “Well, I’m really tired—“

“I’m sorry we’ve lost touch,” Charlie says. Her eyes flick up at mine, compelling me to sit back down. She exhales, noiselessly rubbing the tips of her claws over the surface of the table. “I didn’t realize that you’d become so…isolated, from us. From me. I should have done more. I’m sorry for that.”

The words make me squirm. Not because they’re true or anything. It’s just the heat, you know? It’s hot in Deerbrook. I’ve probably mentioned that once or twice, I don’t know. It’s hot. Warm. I feel it under my skin. “It’s okay. We’re here together now, right? Well, not now, since I should really—”

“Yes,” she agrees, the ghost of a tiny smirk on her poker face. “We should talk.”

Ironically, we don’t say anything else for another minute or so. It’s like she’s doing this on purpose.

“So Betty’s dead and I had to pick up the pieces.”

I’m frozen.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so negative. I volunteered. Al needed help and no one else could help like I could. I was no good. Remember that? I was no good and no one would have missed me if I disappeared.”

“That’s not true,” I murmur.

“Thank you,” she continues. “But now things are different. I can’t disappear. Wolter needs help with groceries because he forgets sometimes, which means that Anneke does too. Avo’s good, but sometimes managing the store gets too stressful and she needs an extra paw. Marty’s always been fine. Al has Velvet. Cormo, though…”

We giggle weakly.

“See, we’re laughing,” the fox observes, as cheerful as she can get without actually being cheerful. “I’m different now, Ozzy. I’m sorry for assuming that you weren’t. And for not taking interest in your new life. I should have pressed more, or noticed that something was wrong, but I didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

“Good. Now, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Will you come home with me?” she proposes carefully, reaching across the table and offering her palm. My heart bursts. I feel like the sun’s stopped burning and the silence that was holding me down have relinquished its grip on my body. My head feels dizzy, and in a hazy instant I realize that my dream is within my reach. I could go home. _I can go home_.

I shake my head, wondering if the tears I feel coming are still rising or just starting to fall out of my eyes. “I can’t.”

Her brow furrows as she draws her arm back in. “I don’t understand.”

“You won’t,” I sigh. “Look, it’s been a long day—“

“Ozzy, _please_.”

“I just, it’s not something I can just explain — I want to but — shit, I can’t come back,” There’s a glare from the plastic. I look away so I don’t hurt my eyes. “I’m glad you chose to stop by and I’m sorry but it’s not something that’d make sense to you.”

“Try me!” Charlie growls. On reflex I lean back. New Beta, huh.

But I still can’t. My eyes close and I count my breaths until I realize that Charlie’s stopped moving. But I won’t look. If I tell her — I won’t but if I do then who knows what she’d say? What she’d think? I picture Velvet’s face before our appointments. Caring, and nothing but caring, but above me. Because I was never anything but low when I was back home.

I hear her breaths catch and release, shaky and weak like a dying tree in a storm. I don’t need to open my eyes to see her slouched form, silent and still but crying tears that she doesn’t deserve to be shedding.

I close my eyes tighter, feeling the pressure on my pupils. “She never saw me.”

The fox is silent. She gathers herself before she tells me “It wasn’t your fault.”

“She never saw what I became.”

“You can’t have known.”

“I did nothing,” I choke. “My entire life she didn’t — didn’t see me do anything except sit around and be _worthless_. So — so I’m not, no I’m not gonna make that mistake again. You’ll see that I’ve done something with my life or — you know, if you can't look at me and see someone you can be proud of, well, you won't see me at all.”

“She loved you,” Charlie objects quietly. “We do too.”

“Well, you know what? I love you too,” My voice cracks as I speak. “And — and — and we’re different now. Like you said! We used to be alright. But we’re not anymore. You guys stayed and I left and maybe that’s my fault but all I know is that if I look at you I want to remember but I don’t actually wanna _see_.”

“You keep acting like you need to make a choice between moving on and seeing us again. Being a part of our lives. You can do both. You realize that.”

“I—“

Her paw swipes for mine, grabs tight and doesn’t let go. “We’ll accept you for who you are now, just like we did back then. We’ll love you twice as hard. And we won’t let you go. Please just, please, just say that you’ll give us a chance.”

Always so quiet. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d crept over to stand beside me.

“We all miss you Ozzy. I don’t know what I can say anymore. You bring smiles to our faces and we’re _proud_.”

Movement from across the table. The album slides over to me, and I manage to convince myself to open my eyes.

There’s a picture nestled into the very last page. I must have missed it the other day. We only stopped halfway through, after all.

Me and Betty. She doesn’t look a day older than last time I saw her. A smile’s on the way to gracing her face (I can see it! It’s so close to coming out) and a ciggie’s burning bright in between her fingers. Her other paw’s scritching my head while I’m mid speech. Looks like neither of us even realize that there’s a camera capturing this moment, but I’m thankful for it. You know, this might have been the last time we shared a frame together.

She looks so real. She looks like I could reach out and touch her.

“I’m not going to say that she wouldn’t want you like this, because you already know that,” Charlie explains. Her breath makes whatever fur that wasn’t already pricked stand on end. “I am going to say that she would want you to to say yes to me. So, let me ask again.”

The vixen’s paw squeezes mine. “Come home.”

I turn and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, we meet each other’s stares. Two friends together again. Two mammals who love each other more than anything else in this world even though everything’s kinda really messed up. I know what I want.

“Yeah,” I whisper, and say it again louder. “Yeah. I will.”

She hugs me, and I hug her back. We get each other’s fur matted with our mutual tears. Charlie’s fur is warm to the touch. She smells like raspberries and hot sand, like she always did. I trace my fingers down the curves of her back, imagining that she’s a year younger and we still have time to talk. All the time in the world to do nothing but talk and be with each other.

And I realize that we have that again, and that should be fine.

“I’ve done enough, haven’t I?” I ask. “You really are proud.”

“You never had to do anything to make us proud, Ozzy,” she says. “You just had to love us hard. And you do. That’s enough to last a lifetime, and a little more.”

* * *

 

 

 

  
The next day I wake up early and take a look in the mirror. What I see is a hyena.

He’s got stripes and he’s tall. He’s a performer. He’s richer than he ever dreamed.

A knock sounds at my door. “Whenever you’re ready, Ozzy.”

I turn back and look at myself again.

He’s got the best fox in the entire universe at his side. He’s got a grave to visit. He’s got a lot to do today.

Today he’s coming home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
